Untitled | Hobo Johnson

Hi, what's your name? How are you? How's your life? Oh, you got a man? Are you in love? If so, what type? Is it just platonic, strictly just as friends Or the type that ties you two together 'til tomorrow's end? If it is, disregard every time I call you pretty Though it's meant sincerely, it's just my imagination drifting Brush me off like the dirt on Jay-Z's shoulders So I fall to ground, collect myself and get ready to take over your heart Or at least your spare time And I love the thought of being with you Or maybe it's the thought of not being so alone Hey, the second one's way sadder than the first one But I don't know I love the thought of being with you